WHITHER BOUND? 



BY 

A. M. M. 




PHILADELPHIA : 
PRESBYTERIAN PUBLICATION COMMITTEE, 
1334 CHESTNUT STREET. 

NEW YORK: A. D. F. RANDOLPH & CO., 770 BROADWAY. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 

WM. L. HILDEBURN, Treasurer, 
in trust for the 
PRESBYTERIAN PUBLICATION COMMITTEE, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of 
Pennsylvania. 



Westcott & Thomson, 
StereotyPers, Philada. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 



The Giver of Life. 7 

CHAPTER II. 
The Conqueror of Death 31 

CHAPTER III. 
The Redeemer from Sin 57 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Constraining Love of Christ 75 

CHAPTER V. 
What Shall the End be? 101 



3 



This world is poor from shore to shore, 

And, like a baseless vision, 
Its lofty domes and brilliant ore, 
Its gems and crowns are vain and poor— 

There's nothing rich but heaven. 

Empires decay and nations die, 

Our hopes to winds are given ; 
The vernal blooms in ruins lie, 
Death reigns o'er all beneath the sky — 
There's nothing sure but heaven. 

Creation's mighty fabric all 

Shall be to atoms riven, 
The skies consume, their planets fall, 
Convulsions rock this earthly ball — 

There's nothing firm but heaven. 
1* 5 



WHITHER BOUND? 



CHAPTER I. 
The Giver of Life. 

Why should we fear youth's draught of joy, 

If pure, would sparkle less ? 
Why should the cup the sooner cloy 

That God hath deigned to bless ? 

IT is a beautiful world which God has 
given to his human children to dwell 
in — beautiful in its manifold aspects of 
external nature. Its skies, pure azure or 
flecked with snowy clouds, or glowing 
with the rich hues of sunrise or sunset ; 
its emerald, dew-besprinkled turf; its 
sparkling sapphire waves ; its mighty 
mountains, with their shadowy clefts and 

7 



8 



Whither Bound? 



summits crowned with snow or wreathed 
with floating mists ; its lakes, lying placid 
between their mountain ramparts ; its rich 
landscapes ; its ever-varying beauties of 
lonely forest or rugged seashore ; of sun- 
shine and shade, storm and calm, spring 
and autumn, summer and winter, — all 
speak of the infinite resources and love of 
the Creator. 

But though God has thus richly lavished 
his creative pow r er on what is fitted to min- 
ister to our innocent enjoyment, he has by 
no means intended that the gifts he has 
bestowed on man shall Jill uj> his heart 
and satisfy his nature. Not even the 
richest blessings that come from his boun- 
teous hand — the blessings of human affec- 
tion and love, which so sweeten and 
brighten our earthly lot — are intended to 
fill the cup of the soul's happiness and 
limit its aspirations. Could this be so, 
man would be an infinitely less noble be- 
ing than his Maker intended him to be. 

But it is not so. Let the most prosper- 



The Giver of Life. 



9 



ous life be imagined which it is possible 
to conceive. Let it be free from every 
external annoyance, every embittering ele- 
ment from without, every worrying care, 
every irritating loss, every harassing anx- 
iety. Let it be filled up w r ith congenial 
work, with delightful recreations, with the 
happiest and most loving social intercourse 
w T hich life can afford. Let culture refine 
it, and luxury smooth its path, and all that 
is beautiful in nature and art combine to 
throw a charm around it. Still, amidst all 
its sensuous delights, the soul will remain 
unsatisfied ; still, in its earthly paradise, it 
will feel irrepressible longings for that 
which no mere earthly paradise can sup- 
ply. Still, in the midst of external calm 
and harmony, inextinguishable stirrings of 
evil will disturb the peaceful flow of life, 
and taint with their baleful influences the 
perfumed air. 

The only real, satisfying happiness of 
man must always lie in union and com- 
munion with God ; and his present con- 



io Whither Bound? 



dition, until renewed by the mysterious 
change which is wrought by God's Holy 
Spirit, with the consent and choice of the 
individual, is one of separation and aliena- 
tion from his heavenly Father. 

The prodigal son has wandered away 
into the far country, and tries to satisfy his 
hunger with the husks he finds there. It 
is, indeed, one of the most striking and 
universal proofs of our fallen nature that 
we are inclined so systematically and per- 
sistently to turn away from Him who is the 
true life of our souls, and to seek our hap- 
piness in the transitory and unsatisfactory 
pleasures of a mutable world. Unlike 
Adam in his pure, unfallen condition, when 
he delighted in holding direct communion 
with his Maker, we continually do as he 
did when sin had overtaken him, and hide 
ourselves " from the presence of the Lord 
God amongst the trees of the garden." 
The lightest trifles, too frivolous to seem 
worthy of occupying the serious attention 
of any being endowed with an immortal 



The Giver of Life. 



1 1 



soul, will often serve as hiding--places, con- 
venient refuges from the oppressive and 
unwelcome thoughts of that God from 
whose presence the unrenewed soul in- 
stinctively shrinks, as if he were its most 
determined enemy, instead of being, as he 
is, its infinitely loving, infinitely patient 
Father and Friend, from whom every good 
gift in its possession has been derived. 

And this perversity in man, in thus turn- 
ing away from the ever-flowing spring of 
living water and hewing out for himself 
"broken cisterns which can hold no wa- 
ter " to satisfy his thirst, is undoubtedly the 
cause of by far the greater proportion of 
the unsatisfied longings, the heavy hearts, 
the sadness which mingles so largely in 
the cup of human life. To it are traceable 
the ennui, the dissatisfaction, which often 
exist in the breasts of those whose lot 
seems the most richly filled with earthly 
blessings — the jarring notes in chords that 
would otherwise breathe nothing but har- 
mony, the wailing minor key that ever 



12 



Whither Bound? 



mingles in the world's most joyous music. 
Nay, though the bereavements and afflic- 
tions which come direct from the hand of 
God in loving but inscrutable Providence 
must often, in our course through this 
world, cause tears to flow and grief to 
hold for a time its natural sway, yet would 
such sorrows never occasion broken hearts 
and blighted lives if God were felt to be 
the sure stay and inalienable possession of 
the soul — able to supply the want of w r hat 
he takes away, to communicate to the 
sorrowing one that " peace which passeth 
all understanding ;" so that, in the loss of 
property, of beloved ones, of all which 
made life externally pleasant, the bereaved 
ones could say, in no mere form of speech, 
but in sober, heartfelt truth: "Yet I will 
rejoice in the Lord ; I will joy in the God 
of my salvation." 

If this heavenly peace can give comfort 
and joy in the midst of outward darkness 
and desolation, equally will it add bright- 
ness when all is outwardly bright, and keep 



The Giver of Life. 13 

the sense of enjoyment in God's blessings 
ever fresh, ever healthful, ever free from 
satiety. How often does the sigh of weari- 
ness, in the midst of all that the world can 
give, the restless seeking, in excitement 
and change of scene, for the rest and satis- 
faction which they cannot give, or at best 
only for some fleeting moments, testify to 
the insufficiency of the enjoyment of out- 
ward things to fill up the longing, aspiring 
heart of man ! Illustrations might easily 
be multiplied to convince those who may- 
think that a more favored earthly lot — the 
possession of some coveted blessing as yet 
beyond their reach — would give them the 
happiness they are seeking, of the impos- 
sibility of finding in such things any full, 
unalloyed, satisfying 'haziness. 

When Alexander the Great wept be- 
cause, having conquered one world, there 
was not another to subdue, it was not sim- 
ply because his conquering career was 
stayed. That was the ostensible reason ; 
but another more subtle element mingled 
2 



H 



Whither Bound? 



in the conqueror's tears. It was the 
sense of disappointment which will always 
dim the joy of mere earthly success ; the 
feeling that the glory of his prize had faded 
in his grasp ; the cold chill of the convic- 
tion that the object for which he had been 
straining every nerve had been gained 
indeed, but had failed to satisfy. And if 
another world, and a hundred more worlds 
after that, could have been granted to his 
ambition, the result, when the last one lay 
subdued at his feet, would have been just 
the same. Not the possession of a thou- 
sand worlds can suffice for the happiness 
of the soul, which it is for the infinite God 
alone to satisfy and fill. 

The experiment which, in the case of 
the Macedonian conqueror, had its trial 
on so grand a scale has been often re- 
peated on the smaller scale of every-day 
life, with exactly the same result; as 
many an outwardly prosperous life — ever 
aspiring, yet ever disappointed, always 
fancying it has reached its rest, but always 



T7ie Giver of Life, 



*5 



finding the demon of dissatisfaction and 
unrest lurking to seize its victim amid the 
blossoms of its flowery path — fully exem- 
plifies. Often, indeed, does this unsatis- 
fied feeling — acquiring a depth and inten- 
sity proportioned to the depth and intensity 
of the nature of the individual, to his 
capabilities of enjoying and suffering — 
reach such a point as to neutralize all the 
blessings of his earthly lot, though the 
4 'lines" may have fallen to him in most 
"pleasant places," and to wrap him in 
the dark cloud of irresistible depression 
which one who knew it but too well de- 
scribed as 

" The settled ceaseless gloom 

Which once the Hebrew wanderer bore, 
Which cannot look beyond the tomb, 
And cannot hope for rest before." 

A young man, heir to a fair estate, was 
left to the sole and undisturbed enjoyment 
of his heritage. He had not attained its 
possession through the death of any near 
or beloved relatives, so that the sorrow of 



i6 



Whither Bound? 



bereavement did not mingle in his cup of 
prosperity. His reputation was fair and 
unblemished ; he had, so far as the most 
intimate of his friends were aware, no 
cause of remorse or self-reproach, no 
secret sorrow to prey upon his heart. Life 
seemed opening before him with the 
brightest prospects ; he w r as the envied of 
many, who thought that a lot like his 
could be darkened by no shadow of un- 
happiness. And yet, one bright morning, 
when all nature seemed rejoicing and his 
own fair property was looking its brightest 
and loveliest, he went with his gun to a 
knoll from whence he could survey it as 
it lay spread around him in its autumn 
beauty, and there, with his own hand, 
put an end to his life. None could assign 
any cause for the deed, at which all mar- 
veled, save a strange, causeless depression 
that had gradually been creeping over 
him — a " melancholy " springing from no 
outward source, but from the vague, in- 
ward sense of unrest and unsatisfied long- 



The Giver of Life. 17 



ing which we have been endeavoring to 
describe. 

Of course, it is only in extreme cases 
and in peculiar natures that this feeling 
can acquire such an intensity of strength ; 
yet it may reasonably be doubted whether 
it is ever entirely absent from the enjoy- 
ments which are derived solely from 
" things seen and temporal," or even from 
the nobler pleasures and triumphs of 
thought, when pursued apart from the 
God in the enjoyment of whom is our 
true joy, in whose presence is fullness of 
joy, at whose right hand are rivers of 
pleasure. 

Occasionally, indeed, in times of eager 
excitement or in the hot chase after some 
eagerly coveted prize, this secret uneasi- 
ness may be forgotten, overpowered by 
the pressure of the immediate sensations, 
but, wdth the coolness of the reaction 
that follows, it is there again. Even in 
our moments of crowning joy, the irre- 
pressible sigh will arise from this perpetual 
2* 



x8 



Whither Bound? 



source of unrecognized sadness, and the 
disappointing revelation will force itself 
upon the reluctant heart that what seemed 
in the ideal dream to be all-sufficient for 
happiness proves in the reality to fall so 
far short of satisfaction. 

When the secret histories of all hearts 
shall be read, how many "confessions" 
will there be of disappointment in success, 
quite as bitter as disappointment in failure 
has ever been described to be ! And it 
must always be thus till the heart has 
found its true resting-place in the enjoy- 
ment, not of any of God's creatures, 
though they, in their own place, are given 
us " richly to enjoy," but of God himself, 
who alone can fulfill the requirements of 
the nature he has made in his own image 
and satisfy the aspirations of the restless 
heart. The very sadness we have tried to 
describe, which so pervades all things 
earthly, and which is simply unsatisfied 
aspiration, is a stimulus devised in God's 
infinite love and wisdom to incite us on- 



The Giver of Life, 



l 9 



ward to the possession of our true and 
noble heritage, of which we should lose 
sight and fall short did the earthly things 
that surround us afford us a satisfying 
repose. The goal to which our souls are 
tending is not in these things, transitory 
and fleeting; it is in things ' ' eternal in 
the heavens." The city of our rest is not 
here; for 6 6 here have we no continuing 
city, but we seek one to come." 

So much for the incapacity of earthly 
blessings to give genuine happiness, or 
even rest and peace, in themselves. 

How is it with those who, in the absence 
of all earthly sunshine to brighten their 
lot, rejoice in that restoration to communion 
with God which is offered them in an 
atoning Saviour, in the peace he has 
given them — 4 'the peace which passeth 
understanding " — the joy which " no man 
taketh from them?" 

Look at them in all times of the Chris- 
tian Church. Look at Paul and Silas, im- 
prisoned and suffering from cruel scour^- 



20 



Whither Bound? 



ing, making their dungeon walls resound 
with joyous hymns of praise ; at Stephen, 
whose face, when he was surrounded by 
raging enemies ready to put him to a cruel 
death, shone like the face of an angel ; at 
countless men and women, with feelings 
and desires like our own, who took joy- 
fully the spoiling of their goods, and re- 
joiced in the loss of all things that they 
were counted worthy to suffer for Him who 
had redeemed them. Look at many a 
martyr since, in many a land, cheerfully 
leaving all that made life dear and going 
even joyously to prison and to death amid 
shame and anguish. We may see such 
men as John Bunyan, happy and cheerful 
in ignominious imprisonment; and may 
hear Madame Guyon, bereaved of her 
children, taken from dearly-loved friends, 
shut up in close confinement, deprived of 
every earthly solace and suffering every 
privation that the heart of a woman and a 
mother can feel, yet caroling such joyous 
strains as these : 



T7ie Giver of Life. 



21 



" My heart within me sings, 
It cannot long be sad ; 
For very joy it leaps and springs, 
For Thou hast made me glad. 

" Stone walls do not a prison make, 
Nor iron bars a cage ; 
He fears no evil who doth take 
God for his heritage." 

— and many another song of happy trust 
besides, in circumstances as void of all 
earthly sunshine, showing how independ- 
ent of all that is without it the heart of 
man can be made, when pervaded by 
the peace and joy which God can com- 
municate. 

Now, though it may be said that in the 
instances we have mentioned the sufferers 
were supported by their enthusiasm for the 
cause in which they suffered, this is only 
another mode of confessing that enthu- 
siasm for the cause of Christ — the true 
King of men's hearts — will give a joy in 
suffering for his sake infinitely greater 
than enthusiasm for any earthly king or 
earthly cause has ever had power to be- 



22 Whither Bound? 

stow. Many an instance of heroic patriot- 
ism, of self-sacrificing devotion to an 
earthly sovereign, adorns the pages of 
history ; but patient, brave, heroic as such 
sufferers have often been, we do not find 
the ardent, burning zeal and the joy in 
being counted worthy to suffer which 
characterize those whose love has been 
awakened in response to the love of a 
dying Saviour. 

In the cases of every-day trial and suf- 
fering, of poverty and bereavement, which 
come in the ordinary course of human life, 
and have no " enthusiasm" or martyr-joy 
to alleviate them — where all would seem 
dull, prosaic, commonplace misery — do 
we not usually find a cheerful resignation, 
a peaceful contentment, a joyous hopeful- 
ness among Christian sufferers by such 
causes, which are often unknown in seem- 
ingly more favored abodes of earthly pros- 
perity and apparently unclouded happi- 
ness, but where earthly happiness is made 
all in all? In poverty and sickness, in be- 



The Giver of Life, 



2 3 



reavement and loneliness, in the sharp 
anguish of sudden desolation, how often 
is God's upholding presence found to be a 
^ very present help," giving consolation 
and hope, and even spiritual joy which 
enables the stricken heart to join in all 
sincerity in the apostle's expression : " sor- 
rowing, yet alway rejoicing !" 

Countless have been the testimonies to 
this mysterious bestowal of light in the 
darkness in every possible variety of 
character and every possible combination 
of circumstances. A dying girl, who had 
tasted to the full every pleasure that earth 
can afford, declared, as she lay on her 
couch of lingering pain, "/ have enjoyed 
more with my Bible in this room than in 
the gayest scenes I have ever known" A 
solitary man who spent sleepless nights of 
suffering from a painful disease was asked 
if he did not find the night very long. 
" No," he replied, " not at all ; I thought 
of my Saviour's love, and was so happy !" 

Into how many scenes of darkness and 



24 



Whither Bomtd? 



sorrow has the same ray streamed brightly, 
making sunshine in a shady place ! In 
the thick darkness of the choked coal-pits, 
under the shadow of impending death, in 
the privation and suffering of the besieged 
or the besiegers, amid the horror and dis- 
may of the Indian mutiny, God's people 
have testified to the ' ' perfect peace" he 
has given them, and have been able to 
enter into the exclamation of the sweet 
singer of Israel : " Thou hast put gladness 
in my heart more than in the time that 
their corn and their wine increased." 

But if God can thus give his people 
light when all around is darkness, will he 
not also be the true light of their path 
when it lies amid brighter scenes? When 
life is opening fair and hopeful before us, 
when all that meets the outward eye 
seems bright and joyous, his presence, 
sought and felt, can make the joy deeper 
and the hope more buoyant, and the sense 
of happiness far more lasting and secure. 
For he is felt to be the true portion of the 



The Giver of Life. 



25 



soul which it would still retain though all 
else were swept away. In the cup " that 
God hath deigned to bless " there can be 
no bitterness neutralizing the sweet, no 
cloying satiety ; the zest which he alone 
can impart to the blessings he has given 
will make it sweet and invigorating to the 
end. Advancing years and crowding 
cares cannot dull the brightness w r hich 
the Father's smile can give, even to the 
"sere and yellow leaf" of approaching 
age. Even " the shadow feared of man" 
wall appear but a stage in the progress to 
the Father's house — a mere phase in the 
growth and development of the spiritual 
life which is the soul's real existence ; and 
it can be gladdened as truly as the spring- 
time of youth by the true light which 
cometh down from heaven. 

Who cannot recall the image of a Chris- 
tian old age, serene and bright, enjoying 
with fresh zest the blessings that remain 
to it, patiently and cheerfully bearing 
increasing infirmities as passing incon- 
3 



26 



Whither Bound? 



veniences, and looking onward to the 
nobler life in the " house not made with 
hands, eternal in the heavens ;" for which 
life has no fears and death no terrors, 
since its hope is fixed on the Rock of 
Ages which cannot be moved? 

What earthly possession, then, can com- 
pare with this, which adds brightness to 
joyous hours and lifts the burden from 
sorrowing ones, which sustains in adver- 
sity and affliction and gives in prosperity 
that sense of satisfaction which prosperity 
alone cannot bestow, since 

" Only God himself suffices 
Those whom God alone creates !" 

" There be many that say, Who will 
show us any good? Lord, lift thou up 
the light of thy countenance upon us." 

Too surely, every setting day, 

Some lost delight we mourn ; 
The flowers all die along our way, 

Till we, too, die forlorn. 



The Giver of Life. 



Such is the world's gay, garish feast, 

In her first charming bowl 
Infusing all that fires the breast, 

And cheats th' unstable soul, 

Unlike the feast of heavenly love 

Spread at the Saviour's word 
For souls that hear his call, and prove 

Meet for his bridal board. 

For is it Hope that thrills so keen 

Along each bounding vein, 
Still whispering glorious things unseen ? 

Faith makes the vision plain. 

Or is it Love, the dear delight 
Of hearts that know no guile, 

That all around see all things bright 
With their own magic smile ? 

Who but a Christian through all life 

That blessing may prolong ? 
Who through the world's sad day of strife 

Still chant his morning song ? 

Nor shall dull age, as worldlings say, 
The heavenward flame annoy ; 

The Saviour cannot pass away, 
And with him lives our joy. 

Ever the richest, tenderest glow 
Sets round the autumnal sun ; 



Whither Bound? 



But there sight fails ; no heart may know 
The bliss when life is done. 

Such is thy banquet, dearest Lord ; 

Oh give us grace to cast 
Our lot with thine — to trust thy word, 

And keep our best till last. 



Thou inevitable day, 

When to me a voice shall say, 

Get thee up and come away. 

All thine earthly journeys past, 
Rise and make thee ready fast, 
For thy latest and thy last. 

Day deep hidden from our sight, 

In impenetrable night, 

Who may guess of thee aright ? 

Art thou distant, art thou near, 
Shalt thou be more dark or clear, 
Day with more of hope than fear ? 

Shalt thou come, not seen before, 
Thou art standing at the door, 
Saying, life and light are o'er ? 

Or, with slow and gradual pace, 
Wilt thou leave me largest space, 
To regard thee face to face ? 

Little recks it where or how, 
If thou comest then or now, 
With a smooth or angry brow. 

Thou must come, and we must die ; 
Jesus, Saviour, stand thou by 
When that last sleep seals mine eye. 



3* 



29 



CHAPTER II. 



The Conqueror of Death. 

Too surely, every setting day, 

Some lost delight we mourn ; 
The flowers all die along our way, 

Till we, too, die forlorn. 

ALMOST every reader is familiar with 
the story of Dionysius and Damocles. 
The latter, a courtier of Dionysius, the 
tyrant of Sicily, was dilating upon the 
power, the wealth, the magnificence of 
his royal master, and declared that no 
monarch had ever been greater or happier. 
" Hast thou a mind, Damocles," said the 
king, "to taste this happiness, and to 
know, by experience, what the enjoy- 
ments are of which thou hast so high an 
idea?" Gladly the courtier accepted the 

31 



3 2 



Whither Bound? 



tempting offer. A luxurious banquet was 
prepared, at which Damocles was placed 
in royal state on a gilded sofa lined with 
softest cushions and richest embroidery, 
a garland of roses on his head, fragrant 
odors perfuming the air, gold and silver 
plate gleaming around him, and the most 
exquisite delicacies covering the table 
before him. Beautiful pages stood around 
him, ready to obey his slightest order with 
the most respectful deference, and sweet- 
est music filled the air. But just as 
Damocles, intoxicated with the delights 
of his position, was beginning to enjoy 
the pleasures so lavishly provided, he 
beheld, let down from the ceiling imme- 
diately above him, a keen and glittering 
sword suspended by a single hair. The 
enjoyments around him were at once for- 
gotten. He sprang from his seat, and 
entreated to be allowed to retire from a 
position so luxurious and so magnificent, 
yet so full of terror. 

This acted parable, by which the tyrant 



The Conqueror of Death. 33 



made his courtier understand how far his 
supposed happiness was neutralized by 
the unseen dangers which encompassed 
him, is full of significance for all who are 
living without God and without hope be- 
yond the present life, to whom this world 
is everything and death the end of all 
they know and love and prize. 

What do they know of that other life 
beyond the tomb on w 7 hich they shall so 
surely enter? The sword which is to cut 
them off from the only life they know is 
there, suspended invisibly above them ; 
the hair by which it is upheld may snap 
at any moment — must snap eventually — yet 
how many, in the fearful position of the 
Sicilian courtier, throw themselves heart 
and soul into the pleasures of the feast, 
join in the revel and the song, and dream 
away in trivial pursuits the passing hours, 
heedless of the destruction which is swiftly 
hastening to overtake them ! We would 
marvel at the conduct of a man who, 
knowing he might at any moment be 



34 



Whither Bound? 



called away to an unknown land, should 
allow his attention to be absorbed by the 
merest trifles, and should omit to make 
the slightest preparation for his journey 
or to procure any information about his 
unknown destination. We should set 
down as a madman the man who, under 
sentence of death, should amuse himself 
in decorating his cell, should devote all 
his thoughts to feasting and diversion ; yet 
wherein would such conduct be less wise 
than that of those who, with a burden of 
unforgiven sin upon their souls, a neglected 
Saviour and a forgotten and unreconciled 
God to meet, and an endless eternity of 
woe stretching as a -possibility — nay, as a 
-probability — before them, are yet com- 
pletely absorbed in the petty concerns of 
a passing life which must end soon, and 
may end suddenly? 

And yet, turn from it as they will and 
do, they can never quite shut out the 
thought of that dread, unknown eternity. 
It will recur again and again, an unwel- 



The Conqueror of Death. 35 

come intruder to mar their peace, often 
at most unexpected moments. We have 
already spoken of the inability of earthly 
pleasures, enjoyed to their fullest extent, 
to give absolute satisfaction even in the 
present moment, for the reason that the 
soul was created for higher happiness than 
it can find in fountains that flow from 
earthly sources. But even could the en- 
joyment of the moment be perfect in 
itself must it not always be liable to be 
marred by the sense of insecurity and 
instability which is ever ready to force 
itself into unpleasant prominence? Let 
a man have attained the summit of his 
earthly desires ; let him be in possession 
and enjoyment of all the wealth, all the 
distinction, he has ever coveted ; let every 
taste be indulged, every sense gratified ; 
let his abode be perfect in beauty and 
luxury ; let the pleasures of literature and 
domestic life and social intercourse be his 
in their fullest degree, while unbroken 
health and unabated sensibility enable him 



36 



Whither Boimd? 



most thoroughly to enjoy the perfection of 
his lot. Yet, supposing him to be living 
only for this world, walking by sight and 
not by faith, must not the flow of enjoy- 
ment meet with a rude shock when the 
feeling arises, as arise it will, that all this 
must end before long ; that behind this 
bright, gay, decorated life he is living 
there yawns a black abyss, unknown and 
terrible, into which he must eventually fall, 
and which may at any moment open to 
receive him? Curtain it off as he may 
with brilliant screens and gorgeous pic- 
tures, it is there, and it will make its 
presence felt. At any moment a single 
breath may blow aside the fragile screen, 
and expose the dread vision which sends 
a chill shudder through his frame. In the 
midst of mirth and festivity, of joyous 
music and gleeful intercourse, a glance at 
the columns of a newspaper, a casual 
item of intelligence, may open up the 
vista of dread-inspiring darkness which is 
ever looming in the distance. 



The Conqueror of Death. 37 

When an acquaintance drops into that 
yawning and silent tomb — when in the 
dead of night some vague alarm, some 
mysterious premonition, makes him feel as 
if he were already losing his hold of the 
possessions which he grasps with so des- 
perate a clutch— who can describe the 
terror of the sensation that the grim 
Destroyer of earthly joys is sw T iftly though 
silently advancing upon him, and that ere 
long he must go out, naked as he came 
into the world, into the outer darkness, 
which his eager gaze may strive in vain 
to penetrate ! Oh why, when such feel- 
ings come, sent in mercy to warn ere it 
be too late, why does he not turn while 
there is still time to the safety that is 
offered — to the Saviour and Guide who is 
ready to take his hand and lead him 
through that thick darkness to the many 
mansions of the Father's house, to the 
inexpressible joy of the things which God 
has provided for them that love him? 

But instead of doing this, and placing 
4 



3§ 



Whither Bound? 



themselves henceforward on an immutable 
resting-place of peace and safety, how 
many resolutely turn away from the un- 
welcome warning, content to stifle the 
thought of the evil day and forget as best 
they can, in the present pleasure, the 
danger that lies beyond ! 

Who has not felt, in standing by the 
silent couch on which the cold form of a 
corpse is laid, so rigid in its inanimate 
stillness, how poor and slight a thing our 
mortal life is ; how awful a change is that 
which cuts oft" the living, sentient being 
from everything known and prized, and 
sends it bare, uncovered, stripped of every 
disguise, "from the comforts and enjoy- 
ments of life to the dark uncertainties of 
that state which is entered through death?" 

This feeling will force itself even upon 
the most thoughtless in the awe-inspiring 
presence of death ; and under its influence, 
temporary as it too often is, no exertion 
would seem too great, no toil too arduous, 
to secure that sense of safety, that lighting 



The Conqueror of Death, 



up of the dark valley with joyous hope, 
which Christ offers without money and 
without price to all who will receive it. 
But the influence passes and the things of 
time and sense again assert their power, 
and death and eternity are once more for- 
gotten. Strange infatuation, which leads 
men to act in the most momentous con- 
cerns with what in the ordinary transac- 
tions of life they would look upon as 
childish folly ! 

But where Christ has been accepted as 
the Redeemer of the soul, its everlasting 
portion and stay, with what different feel- 
ings is the great destroyer regarded ! how 
faithful is found the promise of Christ to be 
with his people in the valley of the shadow 
of death ! The Saviour's everlasting arms 
are around his dying disciple, and the King 
of Terrors appears only as a heavenly mes- 
senger commissioned to carry the wearied 
spirit from the troubles and cares of a 
perplexing world to the rest and peace 
prepared for it in its heavenly home. 



40 Whither Bound? 

How striking is the difference in this 
respect between those who are in Christ 
and those who are not, has been seen in 
many a season of trial and danger. As 
long as the current of life runs smooth 
and calm, with nothing to show the preci- 
pice and plunge which is so near, they 
whose life is that of this world only may 
often seem to have the advantage ; their 
hearts may seem lighter, their tone gayer, 
their laugh more careless in its glee than 
that of their Christian companions, whose 
course is often a hidden warfare. But let 
a sudden danger arise — a danger which 
seems to bear the dreaded summons, 
" This night thy soul shall be required of 
thee" — and how quickly does the outward 
semblance of gayety fleet from the lips and 
eye, and the trembling tones and deadly 
pallor betray the agony of fear which the 
summons excites ! 

An ocean steamer was sailing for a dis- 
tant port, bearing its precious freight of 
human life over a sea calm, but obscured 



The Conqueror of Death. 41 

by fog. Its passengers, trusting to the 
pilot's watchful care, unthinking of danger, 
were amusing themselves in the various 
w r ays which their inclination prompted. 
Merry talk was going on, and bursts of 
uncontrollable merriment frequently fol- 
lowed some playful sally or witty rejoinder. 
Bright smiles were reflected from one face 
to another, undimned by a shadow of anx- 
iety. Suddenly the shock of a collision 
was felt ; the tidings ran like wildfire that 
the vessel had struck a rock, that the for- 
ward compartment was broken in, that it 
was fast filling. The peril seemed immi- 
nent ; even the sailors dreaded to go below 
for an instant lest during that instant the 
steamer would sink. What a change had 
passed over that merry group of passen- 
gers ! How pale and wan the bright 
faces had grown ! how faint and trembling 
the tones of the lively jesters ! Abject 
terror, overcoming all attempts at restraint, 
revealed how unprepared were most to 
meet the fate which they believed await- 
4* 



42 Whither Bound? 

ing them. But two or three of the num- 
ber who, in the former time of gayety had 
seemed perhaps the gravest of the party, 
were calm and undismayed, even serene 
and cheerful, sustained themselves and 
endeavoring to sustain others with the 
hope in Christ which cheered them in life, 
and did not fail them when death seemed 
to be approaching. They alone could 
meet the prospect bravely, for the Saviour 
and Friend by their side had himself 
passed through its darkness, and they 
knew that he could lead them to the light 
beyond. The vessel, however, did not 
sink, the breach being wholly confined to 
the fore-compartment. In a short time 
the danger was over, and all was again 
quiet as before. Let us hope that that 
moment of deadly peril and fear was not 
without lasting effect on some, who were 
thus brought to realize as they had never 
before done that " in the midst of life we 
are in death." 

Another incident of the same kind may 



The Conqueror of Death. 



43 



be mentioned. A steamboat plying on an 
American river suddenly met with a 
similar accident, fatal to the vessel, though 
from the nearness of the shore the passen- 
gers were all saved by means of boats. 
But for a few fearful minutes there was an 
awful suspense, lest the wrecked steamer 
might sink before deliverance could reach 
its trembling passengers. In the scene of 
terror and confusion, when life-belts were 
in eager request, and were first supplied 
to the women on board, one lady, who, 
calm and unmoved, felt, as she afterward 
said, " how great is the power of God to 
give perfect peace in moments of danger," 
gave proof of the security she experienced 
by requesting that she might be allowed 
to transfer her life-belt to some one w r ho 
feared the death which had no terrors for 
her. 

And in times where the danger was not^ 
as in these cases, mercifully averted, 
where timbers crashed and gave way, 
letting down their living burden into the 



44 



Whither Bound? 



seething deep, or where the filling ship 
sank like lead, strewing the sea with those 
who had been clinging to her for safety, 
how has this peace and hope been found 
adequate to support in the last extremity, 
when those who had it not gave way to 
utter despair ! In the wreck of the " Lon- 
don," which some years ago excited so 
great a sensation, entailing the loss of so 
many lives, no one could help noticing 
the conduct of some Christian sufferers, 
who went through that trying scene with 
true Christian courage and like angels of 
mercy, endeavoring to impart to those 
around them the consolation which upheld 
themselves. 

And in the destruction of the Kent East 
Indiaman, in 1825, when the flames 
w r hich swallowed up the vessel in swift 
destruction added their horrors to the 
scene of death, the following lines were 
written and placed in a bottle, which was 
afterward washed ashore, and published 
by the finder : 



The Conqueror of Death, 



45 



" The ship, the Kent Indiaman, is on 
fire. Elizabeth, Joanna and myself com- 
mit our spirits into the hands of a blessed 
Redeemer. His grace enables us to be 
quite composed in the awful prospect of 
entering eternity. 

" D. McGregor. 

" ist March, 1825. Bay of Biscay." 

These are only a few fugitive cases, 
taken almost at random from the hundreds 
which might be collected, exemplifying 
the same strengthening grace of God in 
the time of mortal peril. No mere senti- 
mental imagination, no theory, however 
well constructed, no outside belief in the 
facts of Christianity, could have given 
this strength to meet a violent death, com- 
ing suddenly in the midst of life and 
health and busy projects, without that 
weakening of the vital tenacity and energy 
by illness which sometimes reconciles the 
weary sufferer, worn out by pain, to the 
thought of a death which seems to promise 
relief from physical suffering. 



4 6 



Whither Bound? 



Nor less sure is God's strengthening 
grace in a dying hour, when the death 
which comes to all is preceded by the 
weakness and suffering through w r hich its 
gradual approaches are discerned, and the 
soul from day to day is brought to realize 
more fully the near certainty of its lonely, 
mysterious departure from the w r orld of 
sense to the world of spirit. True, the 
almost infinite varieties of mental pecu- 
liarities and physical influences, the power 
of some diseases to cause great mental 
depression, the failure of many Christians 
to walk in the light in which they might 
walk during life and health, cause an 
equal variety of deathbed experience. 
Even the truest, most conscientious Chris- 
tians will find sins and lapses to repent, 
carelessness and coldness to regret, which 
in the near prospect of death will often 
cause deep sorrow, sometimes even serious 
misgivings as to whether the hope in 
Christ is a true one, and the longer the 
course of sin and impenitence has been, 



The Conqueror of Death. 47 



and the longer deferred has been the turn- 
ing to Christ, the more probable is it that 
the deathbed hope will often be clouded 
by the accusings of conscience — accusings 
from which the really impenitent man, who 
may have succeeded in deceiving himself 
to the last, will sometimes escape. 

But though in the dying experience of 
the true child of God there may be many 
vicissitudes of feeling — seasons of darkness 
and mental suffering, doubts as to accept- 
ance, anxiety regarding the sincerity of 
the Christian life, attacks and temptations 
from the great enemy of souls, unwilling to 
lose his prize — still through all these trials 
the everlasting arms are ever around him ; 
he will not be left in the darkness of doubt ; 
"at evening-time it shall be light" and 
peace and hope. No trusting Christian 
ever died in despairing anguish ; how 
many an impenitent child of the world 
has done so, or failed to feel in his 
utmost need that his Saviour was with 
him, that to his care he could commit his 



4 8 



Whither Bound? 



spirit when he went out alone into the 
untried, unknown for ever ! In Bunyan's 
Pilgrim's Progress — so true a parable of 
the soul's experience — Christian, when in 
the cold darkness of the dark river, was 
sorely tried with doubts and fears, but the 
faithful saying, " Be of good cheer, Jesus 
Christ maketh thee whole" brought in- 
stant comfort. 64 With that," we are told, 
' 6 Christian broke out with a loud voice, Oh, 
I see him again ! and he tells me, When 
thou passest through the waters, I will be 
with thee, and through the rivers, they 
shall not overflow thee ; then he took 
courage, and the enemy was after that as 
still as a stone until he was gone over." 

But how often, on the other hand, does 
the faithful, earnest Christian realize in 
the presence of death the joyous, un- 
clouded confidence with which in the 
same parable Mr. Standfast declared !— 
6 6 This river has been a terror to many; 
yea, the thoughts of it also have often 
frighted me ; but now methinks I stand 



The Coizqueror of DeatJi. 49 



easy, my foot is fixed upon that on which 
the feet of the priests that bare the Ark of 
the Covenant stood while Israel went 
over this Jordan." How often, too, is the 
case of Mr. Despondency and of Much- 
afraid, his daughter, realized, and they 
who through life seemed to have a 
troubled, doubtful experience, have gone 
down to the river singing and exclaiming, 
66 Farewell, night! welcome, day!" 

While joyous, exultant deathbeds are 
comparatively rare, depending on so many 
conditions which are rarely all realized, 
peaceful, trusting deaths, illumined by 
the most satisfying faith and hope, may 
be constantly witnessed among those 
who have made Christ their portion. 
When poverty and loneliness are added to 
the pain and discomforts of disease, as 
well as when loving friends surround the 
sufferer with all the alleviations that wealth 
and considerate affection can devise, how 
often have dying lips uttered such words 

as these, the real expressions of dying 
5 



5o 



\\ hither Bozmd? 



believers ! — " Longing to be with Jesus ;" 
" Reposing under the shadow of the cross 
in perfect peace ;" " Though I am walking 
through the valley of the shadow of death 
I fear no evil, for he is with me ;" "I am 
so happy ! Jesus is with me ; I fear no evil 
while he is near;" "How happy am I 
lying here, waiting to go home to my 
Father's house!" "God is dealing very 
graciously with me ; he is very pitiful and 
of tender mercy;" " My beloved is mine 
and I am his ;" " For ever with the Lord." 

From many a memoir of God's honored 
servants, and from many an obscure sick 
room of which the world never heard, 
might such sayings be multiplied endless- 
ly, the genuine expressions of heartfelt 
faith and joy in that awful season which 
unveils all disguise and compels sincerity. 
Even from infant lips have come such 
joyous declarations of faith and hope in 
death as could only have been inspired by 
Him who careth so tenderly for the lambs 
of his flock. And among those who have. 



The Conqueror of Death. 51 



gone to prison and to death for his cause, 
how often from the cruel flames or the 
ghastly scaffold have gone up hymns of 
joyful praise, of rapturous thanksgiving, 
to Him who was with them in the midst of 
the fire and who was already giving them 
a foretaste of " the things which God hath 
prepared for them that love him !" 

Much more might be said to show how 
the grim Destroyer, who was regarded in all 
ages by those who looked on it only in the 
light of Nature as the mortal antagonist of 
man, the extinguisher of -life and light and 
joy, may be transformed by Christian 
faith into an angel of light, a welcome 
messenger sent to set free from the tram- 
mels of sin and of a limited, struggling 
existence, to relieve from the oppression 
of guilt and the taint of moral and physical 
corruption, and conduct the liberated spirit 
into that bright and glorious city of our 
God where ''there shall be no more 
death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither 
shall there be any more pain," into which 



52 



Whither Bound? 



6 6 there shall in no wise enter anything 
that defileth " for ever and ever. 

Oh why then should any delay to make 
sure of a salvation so glorious, a faith 
which not only supports through the battle 
of life, soothing its sorrows and enhancing 
and purifying its joys, but in that last dark 
hour, when earthly solaces and possessions 
can avail nothing, enables the trusting soul 
to overcome its last enemy and go forth 
to claim the "glorious inheritance of the 
saints in light" bought for it by the atoning 
blood of the Redeemer in whom it has 
believed? 

Strange infatuation, that beguiles men to 
neglect that on which hope in death and 
the welfare of eternity depend ! How 
must those who realize the tremendous 
issues at stake, and the insensate indiffer- 
ence of the multitude, who placidly turn 
away and leave them unheeded, join in 
the inspired cry, 64 Oh that they were wise, 
that they understood this, that they would 
consider their latter end !" 



The Conqueror of Death. 



53 



No, no, it is not dying, 

To go unto our God ; 
The glowing earth forsaking, 
The journey homeward taking, 

Along the starry road. 

No, no, it is not dying, 

Heaven's citizens to be ; 
The crown eternal wearing, 
And rest unbroken sharing, 
From care and conflict free. 

No, no, it is not dying, 

To hear the precious word, 
Receive a Father's blessing, 
For evermore possessing 
The favor of the Lord. 

No, no, it is not dying, 

To wear a lordly crown ; 
Among God's people dwelling, 
The glorious anthem swelling, 
Of Him whose love we own. 

Oh no, this is not dying, 

Thou Saviour of mankind ; 
Streams there are overflowing 
Of love, no hindrance knowing ; 
Drops only here we find. 



5* 



Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in thee, 

Let the water and the blood 

From thy wounded side that flowed, 

Be of sin the double cure, 

Cleanse me from its guilt and power. 

Nothing in my hand I bring — 
Simply to thy cross I cling ; 
Could my zeal no respite know, 
Could my tears for ever flow, 
All for sin could not atone ; 
Thou must save, and thou alone. 

While I draw this fleeting breath, 
When my eyelids close in death, 
When I soar to worlds unknown, 
See thee on thy judgment-throne, 
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in thee. 



CHAPTER III. 



The Redeemer from Sin. 

Wouldst thou the pangs of grief assuage ? 
Lo ! here an open page, 
Where heavenly mercy shines as free, 
Written in balm, sad heart, for thee. 



AD the banquet set before the Sicil- 



A J- ian courtier been pervaded by a 
subtle poison, embittering every delicate 
viand and bringing certain death to the par- 
taker, he would scarcely have enjoyed it 
more than he did with the knowledge that 
the glittering sword was suspended by a 
hair above his head. And there is a 
poison, subtle and deadly, spreading its 
baleful effects through every particle of 
the banquet of this world's enjoyments 
which is spread before us. 

In considering the insufficiency of 




57 



58 



Whither Bound? 



earthly blessings alone to produce full and 
satisfying happiness, the most serious 
alloy of all was not taken into account. 
That alloy, that poison, embittering the 
cup of life and blighting so much of fair 
and radiant promise — do we need to name 
it? — is Sin! 

Some theorists dispute the doctrines 
which Revelation teaches and which ex- 
perience would certainly seem to confirm 
— that sin, so hateful and so deadly, is a 
constituent element of our fallen human 
nature. Certainly, its actual prevalence, 
as widespread and universal as humanity 
itself, would seem to be most easily ex- 
plained by the revealed teaching that 
man's moral nature received at the period 
of our progenitors' fall — that bias toward 
evil which we are wont to call original 
sin. But so long as the fact of the ten- 
dency which evinces itself in the count- 
less forms of vice and crime with which 
this fair earth is defiled, and in the deep 
moral degradation of so large a pro- 



The Redeemer from Sin. 



59 



portion of the human race, cannot be 
disputed, it is the less necessary to con- 
tend about the theory. However it has 
come there, no human being can doubt 
the existence in the world of an over- 
powering weight of sin, loading down 
men's hearts and consciences with its 
grevious burden, counteracting human 
progress, and infinitely aggravating all 
the other evils to which mortality is sub- 
ject. Who that has cast a thought upon 
the world around him has not shrunk, 
heartsick and distressed, from the horri- 
ble revelations of cruelty and crime with 
which the history of the past and present 
is teeming? Who has not felt in his own 
experience, time after time, that uneasy 
sense of dissatisfaction with himself, that 
regret which will not be stilled, that ac- 
cusing voice of conscience which will 
make itself heard in spite of all attempts 
to overpower it, which, in their intensified 
form, we call remorse? The imperial 
purple has no power to protect its wearer 



60 Whither Bound? 

from its judicial visitations ; the conqueror 
of millions cannot defend himself from the 
grim spectres it sends to haunt his lonely 
hours. The ghastly suicide, the mur- 
derer's despairing self surrender, too often 
testify to the goading torments of this in- 
evitable executioner, personified by the old 
Greek mythology in the Furies, who pur- 
sued the offender with their implacable 
vengeance to the remotest bounds of the 
habitable globe. 

But while it is only in cases of aggra- 
vated crime that remorse becomes so 
intense and unendurable, who has not felt 
it in its more modified degree? Who does 
not know its persistent pressure, destroy- 
ing peace of mind, and often making it 
impossible to enjoy circumstances the most 
outwardly favorable? Is there any life so 
pure and innocent as to be unfamiliar with 
the restless discomfort produced by the 
dissatisfied sense of wrong-doing? Even 
where the conduct seems the most faultless 
to outside observers, the conscience, if en- 



The Redeemer from Sin. . 6r 

lightened and true, will often have to 
mourn over a wrong feeling or a wrong 
action, perhaps known only to itself. 
Even children know it well — the dull 
aching of the heart, the punishment that 
cannot be eluded, escape other punish- 
ment as they may. From the cradle to 
the grave we are subject to the visitation 
of this retributive action of our own judg- 
ment, which spoils so many of our hap- 
piest seasons and adds a poignancy to 
3orrow which nothing else can equal. For 
though there are many good and noble 
elements still in human nature — germs of 
what may be developed into more than 
angelic perfection — still the evil ones are 
sufficiently prevalent to verify the poet's 
w r ords : 

" Poor race of men, said the pitying spirit, 
Dearly ye pay for your primal fall ; 
Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, 

But the trail of the serpent is over them all." 

Nor is the sense of discomfort, or of 
anguish occasioned by remorse, the only 

6 



62 



Whither Bound? 



present penalty of sin. There is mingled 
with it — sometimes latent, but generally 
more or less consciously — the intuitive 
conviction, common at least to all tolerably 
enlightened minds, that the sin which is 
troubling the conscience has also inter- 
posed a barrier between the soul and the 
pure and holy God, who " cannot look 
upon iniquity." There is, disguise it from 
ourselves as we may, the sense of the 
present displeasure and of the impending 
punishment from Him whose righteous 
hand holds the scales of justice, and who 
"is angry with the wicked every day.'' 
This sense, this conviction, may be 
crushed down with steady determination, 
it may be covered over with false glosses 
and fond self-flattery, but in all cases 
where the " writing of condemnation " has 
not been taken away through Jesus Christ, 
conscience will sooner or later awake and 
wreak a terrible vengeance for its tempo- 
rary repression. 

Probably this conviction that our sins 



The Redeerner fro?n Sin. 63 



stand between us and a sin-hating God, 
that while we remain in them we must be 
estranged from his favor and communion, 
is the chief reason why we naturally try 
to escape from the thought of God, and 
endeavor to find a spurious happiness in 
other things. It was only when Adam 
was conscious of sin that he dreaded his 
Maker's voice and hid himself from the 
presence of the Lord God among the trees 
of the garden. But there is a better way 
than thus escaping from our Father's 
presence and going farther and farther 
away into the " far country," from which 
we must be brought back by famine and 
suffering, if at all ; it is the way Jesus 
Christ has opened by his atoning blood — 
the way God himself devised through the 
Lamb he hath provided for a burnt-offer- 
ing ; it is to 

Lay our sins on Jesus, 

The spotless Lamb of God ; 

He bears them all, and frees us 
From the accursed load — 



64 



Whither Bound? 



frees us from the pangs of troubled con- 
science that sadden our life, frees us from 
the burden of sin that weighs our souls to 
earth, frees us from the apprehension of 
eternal destruction which gives its over- 
powering horror to the death of the unre- 
pentant sinner. Well did Bunyan, in his 
Pilgrim's Progress, compare sin to a 
" burden" clinging to the pilgrim and 
impeding him on his way, but which 
rolled off for ever at the foot of the cross. 
We cannot raise ourselves from our fallen 
condition, or struggle on to the eternal 
city, into which " nothing that defileth can 
enter," with this burden clogging our steps 
and wearing out our strength. But it can 
be taken away from us by a strong and 
able hand, and will be, if w r e choose it. 
" Oh, wretched man that I am ! who shall 
deliver me from the body of this death? 
I thank God, through Jesus Christ our 
Lord !" 

Nor is it only the heavy burden of fast 
sin that so weighs us down, and from 



The Redeemer from Sin. 



65 



which we may be so completely relieved 
by this glorious salvation. Sin, by the 
time we begin to think of resisting it, has 
already gained such a hold upon us that 
it has established an invisible network of 
fetters around us — fetters which we at 
first begin really to feel only when we 
struggle to break them. We could as 
soon " make one hair white or black" as 
prevent ourselves in our own strength 
from falling under the dominion of the 
sins that so easily beset us. Struggle as 
we might, we could not keep ourselves 
for one whole day " without sin." Hate 
ourselves as we may, with bitter self-con- 
demnation, for the hasty words or acts of 
passion, the unkind temper, the tempta- 
tion weakly yielded to, the uncharitable 
words, the censorious judgment, the mean 
action, the failure in truth, the countless 
deviations from right of which every day 
finds us more or less guilty, we cannot, 
however sincere may be our after regret, 
prevent ourselves from falling again into 

6* 



66 



Whither Bound? 



the very same snare. The more faithfully 
and untiringly we struggle, the more do 
we feel our own utter helplessness — the 
more shall we acknowledge the truth that 
it must be a stronger arm than our own 
which can break the fetters of sin and re- 
lieve us from their constant pressure. 
Perhaps it is only after we have tried 
earnestly to ' 6 resist, striving against sin," 
that we know their full force. When we 
swim with the Stream, we cannot estimate 
the force of the current, and a lax con- 
science, shutting its eyes to much that is 
sinful, will find its course comparatively 
easy where a more faithful one would find 
it encompassed with difficulty. But there 
is no doubt which has the truer percep- 
tions, and though the lax conscience may 
hold its way peacefully for a time, there 
is a day coming when all these secret sins 
will be " revealed in the light of God's 
countenance." " Know thou, that for all 
these things God will bring thee into 
judgment." 



The Redeemer from Sin. 67 



Feeling then our inability to free our- 
selves, either from the load of past guilt 
on the conscience or from the trammels of 
our -present tendencies to fall into sin, well 
may we rejoice in the great Sacrifice once 
offered up 64 to bear the sins of many." 
Nothing else can be of any avail. 

" Not all the blood of beasts 
On Jewish altars slain 
Could give the guilty conscience peace, 
Or wash away the stain." 

Not all the penances and mortifications 
that have ever been endured by saints and 
anchorites in the hope of lifting from their 
hearts the heavy burden of guilt and 
breaking the habits of sin already formed, 
could exercise the slightest power in doing 
either. But the way is open, the Helper 
is near. "For this cause" came Jesus 
Christ into the world. 66 He shall be 
called Jesus, for he shall save his people 
from their sins." " Behold the Lamb of 
God, which taketh away the sin of the 
world." Everywhere the same truth is, 



68 



Whither Bound? 



declared, that the atoning blood of the 
man Christ Jesus is the remedy. Typified 
by every sacrifice that sent its smoke to 
heaven from Israelitish altars, he is made 
known to us as the one offering, once 
offered, which has the atoning power. On 
him we may lay our burden of sin, and it 
shall be put far from us as the east is from 
the west. For 

" Christ, the heavenly Lamb, 
Takes all our guilt away — 
A Sacrifice of nobler name, 
And richer blood than they." 

That impassable wall of separation be- 
tween us and God once broken down, we 
can arise and go unto our Father, and be 
received back into the sunshine of his 
favor — the light of his reconciled counte- 
nance. And that is " the true light which 
lighteth every man that cometh into the 
world." All others are deceitful gleams, 
illusive meteors, luring on to destruction, 
not shedding over life its true, inextin- 
guishable sunshine. 



The Redeemer from Sin. 



6 9 



It is a glorious liberty with which Christ 
makes his people free — the liberty from 
the bondage in which sin has been holding 
us. It is no mere future salvation that he 
died to win for us, no simple promise of 
security from the everlasting burnings 
which God has declared to await those 
who harden their hearts in rebellion 
against him. That promise of security 
were muck, but it is a far richer and fuller 
salvation that we are offered. The re- 
demption he bestows is a redemption from 
the ^present power of sin — -a redemption on 
which we have entered the moment that 
the contrite heart has come to lay its bur- 
den at the foot of the cross. The moment 
the change from death unto life has passed 
over it, it is no longer in bondage to the 
principle of evil, for stronger is He that is 
with it than he that is against it. 

True, there maybe many a fall and slip, 
for the evil principle in our nature is not 
at once extinguished, and old habits long 
indulged will often reassert their power. 



Whither Bound? 



But the opposing principle has been im- 
parted which will in time overpower the 
other ; the life received from Christ, flow- 
ing through the whole being, will counter- 
act the poison-current of spiritual death. 
The guilt-stained sinner has been washed 
in the blood which alone can purify ; and 
he "that has been washed needeth not 
save to wash his feet " from the daily stains 
contracted in the life-journey. The puri- 
fying fountain is always open to wash 
away the daily sin ; the strength which 
Christ gives is ever ready to enable his 
followers more and more to resist the 
temptations of the way. As his sanctify- 
ing grace gains greater and greater power, 
the alloy of sin will disappear more and 
more ; its clouds will cease to darken the 
horizon of the soul, till the gradual purifi- 
cation has its perfection in the absolute 
purity of the freed spirit which emerges 
from the cold dark of death into the un- 
clouded brightness of the realms where sin 
and death shall be for ever unknown. 



The Redeei7ier from Sin, 71 



From such a salvation as this, so glo- 
rious and so freely offered, how strange 
that any should ever turn carelessly away ! 

If to all the prisoners immured in some 
dreary dungeon came the offer of imme- 
diate liberation, would not each and all 
gladly grasp at the welcome chance of 
escaping from their hated captivity and 
going forth once more in the free air and 
pure light of heaven? Yet the spiritual 
bondage in which we all are bound by 
nature is infinitely heavier, more fatal, than 
any external imprisonment ; and the world 
of spiritual life and light on which the 
freed ones enter, how infinitely more glo- 
rious than anything the present imperfect 
and transient world can show ! For " if 
Christ shall make you free, ye shall be 
free indeed." 

Come, ye sinners ! heavy laden, 

Lost and ruined by the fall ; 
If you wait till you are better, 

You will never come at all. 
Sinners only 

Christ the Saviour came to call. 



Whither Bomtd? 



Let no sense of guilt prevent you, 
Nor of fitness fondly dream ; 

All the fitness he requireth 
Is to feel your need of him ; 

This he gives you, 
'Tis the spirit's rising beam. 

Lo ! the incarnate God ascending 
Pleads the merits of his blood ; 

Venture on him, venture wholly, 
Let no other trust intrude. • 

None but Jesus 
Can do helpless sinners good. 



By thy birth and early years, 
By thy human hope and fears, 
By thy fasting and distress 
In the lonely wilderness, 
By thy victory in the hour 
Of the subtle tempter's power, 
Saviour, look with pitying eye, 
Hear our solemn litany ! 

By thine hour of dark despair, 
By thine agony of prayer, 
By thy purple robe of scorn, 
By thy wounds and crown of thorn, 
Cross and passion, pangs and cries, 
By thy perfect sacrifice, 
Saviour, look with pitying eye, 
Hear our solemn litany ! 



CHAPTER IV. 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 

Now, my soul, thy voice upraising, 
Sing the Cross in mournful strain ; 

Tell the sorrows all amazing, 
Tell the wounds, the dying pain, 

Which our Saviour 
Sinless bore, for sinners slain. 

EVERY one has heard the fable of the 
traveler on whom the sun and the 
wind alternately tried their power to force 
him to take off his cloak. The wind in 
vain blew its fiercest gusts against him — 
he only drew his cloak closer to resist its 
chilling blasts. But when the sun came 
forth, pouring its warm rays around him, 
he gladly threw off the cloak, confessing 
its irresistible power. 

The fable, true in merely human re- 

75 



7 6 



Whither Bound? 



lations, is fully realized in the divine. 
The allegiance of the heart cannot b$ 
forced by any commands or any dread of 
penalties, however certain. Not all the 
denunciations of the righteous judgments 
of God upon sin, not all the terror which 
the contemplation of eternal punishment 
can inspire, have power to subdue the 
proud obstinacy of the heart of man. 
Fear cannot conquer his pride or call 
forth his love, though it may awaken him 
to consider the danger of his position, and 
check him in his reckless career toward i 
destruction. There are moods in which a 
man will dare in impious pride to defy the 
Almighty an$ risk the misery of eternity, 
rather than bow his haughty spirit and 
kneel, a humble suppliant, to ask pardon 
of the God he has offended. In such a 
state of mind, judgments and chastisements 
will often harden instead of softening, and 
nerve the soul to a more desperate resist- 
ance against the almighty Being at w T hose 
absolute mercv it is, who is able in a mo- 



7 he Constraining Love of Christ. 77 

ment to doom it to everlasting misery or 
raise it to everlasting bliss. 

But 44 what the law could not do," 
" God sending his Son in the likeness of 
sinful flesh" has done. What judgments 
were powerless to effect, self-sacrificing 
love has accomplished. The heart that 
once really feels what Jesus Christ has 
done for it in yielding himself up to suffer 
agony and death for its salvation can 
scarcely maintain its obdurate position. 
The "love of Christ constraineth us" to 
at least some grateful love in return, and 
sin is seen in its true deformity when it is 
recognized as the cause of the suffering 
which the pure and holy Jesus submitted 
to endure. The suffering, redeeming love 
that shone so brightly along that toilsome, 
painful path which led the Son of man 
from the manger at Bethlehem to the cross 
on Calvarv, comes home to the heart with 
a tenderer, closer touch than even the 
constant loving care of the heavenly 
Father, whose kind providence supplies 
7* 



7 S 



Whither Bound? 



our needs and watches over our lives from 
our helpless infancy. The sacrifice of 
the Cross, the unspeakable, self-devoting 
love of the crucified Saviour, ought surely 
to be, and in all ages have been, the most 
powerful influences for softening our hard 
hearts and bringing them back to that God 
who 66 so loved the world that he gave his 
only begotten Son, that whosoever be- 
lieveth in him should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." A world lost in sin re- 
quired an infinite Sacrifice for its atone- 
ment, and the terrible nature of its lost posi- 
tion maybe somewhat brought home to our 
hearts by the reflection that that Sacrifice 
was none other than the eternal Son of 
God. Had any way less costly been open, 
we may suppose it would have been taken ; 
but rather than for ever lose his wandering 
children, God gave up his Son, and the 
Saviour came to offer himself a willing 
sacrifice, that all who come unto him might 
have life — the true life which God's favor 
gives, in time and throughout eternity. 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 79 

It is wonderful, when w r e think of all 
that this mighty act of redeeming love in- 
volves, that it does not produce a far more 
powerful effect upon the hearts of those 
who believe in it historically y that we can 
ever lose the sentiment of overpowering 
admiration, intense gratitude and venerat- 
ing love w T hich it would be expected 
always to awaken. But familiarity does, 
according to the old proverb, very gene- 
rally produce indifference at least, if not 
contempt. With many, perhaps with most 
minds the daily sight of the most sublime 
objects will gradually diminish the awe 
and admiration with which they are at 
first beheld. It is the same With the dis- 
coveries of science. Wonderful inven- 
tions, which our forefathers would have 
regarded with bewildered amazement, 
almost with incredulity, are used or passed 
by without a thought. The Atlantic tele- 
graph, for instance, the first establishment 
of which as an accomplished fact sent a 
thrill of wonder through the civilized 



8o 



Whither Bou?id? 



world, has passed into the rank of ordi- 
nary every-day appliances, and we read 
with no more surprise the news which has 
traveled to us with lightning speed across 
three thousand miles of stormy ocean than 
we do that from a neighboring town. 

And in accordance with the same prin- 
ciple of human nature, our familiarity 
from childhood with the "old, old story" 
of the cross has led us to take too much 
as a matter of course that amazing re- 
demption which " angels desire to look 
into." We hear it, we accept it as a mat- 
ter of belief, and then we pass on our way 
and allow ourselves to be swallowed up in 
the trivial concerns of our earthly life, to 
the almost total exclusion of the theme 
which awoke the angels' song above the 
plains of Bethlehem. A brief, cursory 
attention to it on Sunday, accompanied 
with becoming respect, is considered quite 
sufficient for the comprehension of this 
most wonderful of all events ; and often, 
even on Sundays, the attention is wholly 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 81 



wanting. What wonder then that such 
multitudes in Christian lands, to whom has 
been repeated over and over again, in 
every variety of form and diction, the 
history of a transaction unique in its in- 
trinsic interest, and touching their most 
vital interests more closely than anything 
in the universe besides, have never once 
had their hearts really stirred, their grati- 
tude truly called forth, their love in the 
smallest degree awakened, by the knowl- 
edge of that which, one would think, had 
only to be known to bind them for ever to 
their Saviour in the tenderest of bonds. 

But let us, shutting out for a little time 
the noise and bustle and exciting pursuits 
of the world around us, retire for a season 
into the heart's solitary chamber of con- 
templation, and allow our thoughts to 
dwell upon and realize that incomprehen- 
sible incarnation which was made visible 
eighteen hundred years ago in the manger 
at Bethlehem. Let us try to feel in some 
degree the height of heavenly bliss from 



82 Whither Bound? 

which our Lord descended to become the 
companion and friend of publicans and 
sinners. Let us think of those years of 
poverty and toil, of loneliness and perse- 
cution, of patient uncomprehended labor 
in doing his Father's work among those 
who besought him to depart out of their 
coasts or took up stones to cast at him. Let 
us think of him as healing the sick, raising 
the dead, opening the eyes of the blind, 
and then of the closing scene of all these 
labors — the agony in the garden, when 
even to his spirit the prospect before him 
seemed to be overwhelming. Let us think 
of the judgment, the scourging, the agonies 
of the cross, suffered at the hands of the 
men whom he had come into the world to 
save, the scornful words and bitter jeers, 
and last, and most terrible of all, that 
desolating sense of darkness and deser- 
tion which found expression in the cry, 
4 ' My God , my God , why hast thou forsaken 
me?" 

Surely, if we would bring these scenes 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 83 

and actions vividly before our minds, we 
should have an infinitely greater appre- 
ciation of the amazing depth of love which 
voluntarily gave itself up to suffer these 
things, a far deeper gratitude to Him who 
suffered them, and at least the beginning 
of the love which he asks as the only re- 
turn that he desires, or that we can make ! 
But while we listen to the story of the 
cross with our outward ears only, and do 
not allow its influences to penetrate into 
our hearts and minds, it is no wonder that 
so many turn away indifferent and cold, 
without one spark of genuine emotion 
awakened by the divine and devoted love, 
which might, one would think, melt the 
most stony heart. 

On a bright spring day, a poor woman 
was carrying her only child along a lonely, 
unfrequented road among the mountains, 
when a sudden snow-storm arose ; speedily 
it obliterated every track and darkened 
the air with the heavy snow-flakes which 
the fierce gusts whirled around the unfortu- 



8 4 



Whither Bound? 



nate traveler. She struggled bravely on 
for a time, but struggling became vain, 
and she looked eagerly for some place of 
refuge. She had reached a mountain-pass 
that lay in her way, a mile beyond which 
she knew she could find a rude shelter ; 
but when she endeavored to pursue her 
way along the gorge, the blinding storm 
of snow which was rushing through it 
made it impossible for her to proceed. It 
was equally impossible to return, and at 
least a temporary shelter must be found or 
destruction was imminent. 

Among the huge scattered fragments 
of granite which lay around the base of 
the lofty precipices above her head she at 
last found, under a projecting ledge of 
rock, a sheltered nook protected from 
the fury of the storm. Here she could 
crouch, with her child pressed to her 
bosom, and gain a little breathing-space 
and rest for her exhausted frame. But 
still the storm was unabated ; the snow- 
drifts were increasing, and as hour after 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 85 



hour passed and the evening approached, 
the bitter cold and the whirling gusts of 
snow, penetrating even into her place of 
refuge, seemed to make it imperative that 
she should endeavor to find some better 
protection for her child. She could not 
struggle on against the storm while encum- 
bered with its weight, but she could leave 
it in her present place of shelter and en- 
deavor to make her way home to procure 
assistance, or perish in the attempt. 

The child was scantily clad, however. 
To preserve it from being chilled to death 
by the bitter cold, the mother took off 
almost all her own clothing, and wrapping 
it around her little one, laid him tenderly 
in a deep crevice in the rock, among 
heather and fern, and left him fast asleep 
in his narrow, stony cradle while she 
went forth once more into the blinding 
snow and suffocating drift. 

Not far, however, did her already ex- 
hausted strength enable her to hold on her 
way. Her scanty raiment gave almost no 

8 



86 



Wh itJi e r Bo u n d ? 



protection from the freezing blast, and, 
benumbed and exhausted, she sank down 
in the snow to sleep the sleep of death. 
She was found next day, when the storm 
had passed off, by the neighbors who came 
to search for her, and not far oft' the child, 
warm and safe in the crevice of the rock, 
was discovered by his cries and carried 
home uninjured by the mourning friends 
who bore also the corpse of the mother 
who had given her life for his. 
< Half a century afterward the son of 
the aged pastor who had attended the 
funeral of that devoted mother was, in his 
own old age, preaching in a great city to 
a congregation of that mother's country- 
men. It was the occasion of the adminis- 
tration of the Lord's Supper, and in 
reference to that solemn rite the clergy- 
man, in the course of his sermon on the 
great love of Christ — the 64 love which 
seeketh not her own" — told his hearers the 
story of the poor mother whose self-sacri- 
ficing death had left a deep impression on 



The Constraining Love of Christ. S7 

his boyish mind. After narrating the cir- 
cumstances which have been told, he said : 
"If that child is now alive, what would 
you think of his heart if he did not 
cherish an affection for his mother's 
memory, and if the sight of her poor, 
tattered cloak, which she had wrapped 
around him in order to save his life at the 
cost of her own, did not fill him with 
gratitude and love too deep for words? 
Yet what hearts have j/tfz/, my hearers, if, 
over these memorials of your Saviour's 
sacrifice of himself, you do not feel them 
glow with deeper love and with adoring 
gratitude?" 

A few days afterward the preacher w r as 
sent for to visit a dving man. The sick 
man, who was a stranger to him, seized 
his hand and told him that he remembered 
him. He was a soldier who had been in 
all the quarters of the globe and had seen 
good service for his king and country. 
Having gone back to his native land in- 
valided, and as it proved dying, he had 



£8 



Whither Bound? 



gone into that preacher's church to hear 
the gospel once more preached in the 
language of his youth. There he heard 
the story, well known to him, of his 
own mother's love, for he was the poor 
widow's son, the child she had saved by 
leaving him, warm in her own clothing, 
in the crevice of the rock. His mother's 
memory he said he had always loved and 
revered, and his only earthly desire was 
to lay his dust beside hers in the old 
churchyard among the hills. " But, sir," 
he exclaimed, " what breaks my heart 
and covers me with shame is this: until 
now I never saw, with the eyes of the 
soul, the love of my Saviour in giving 
himself for me, a poor, lost, hell-deserv- 
ing sinner. I confess it ! I confess it !" 
he exclaimed, with tears and deep emo- 
tion. "It was God made you tell that 
story. Praise be to his holy name that 
my dear mother has not died in vain, and 
that the prayers which I was told she 
used to offer for me have been at last 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 89 

answered ; for the love of my mother has 
been blessed by the Holy Spirit for mak- 
ing me see, as I never saw before, the 
love of the Saviour. I see it ! I believe 
it ! I have found deliverance in my old 
age where I found it in my childhood — in 

THE CLEFT OF THE ROCK, but it is the 

Rock of Ages !"' Then clasping his 
hands, he repeated with great fervor, 
" Can a mother forget her sucking child, 
that she should not have compassion on 
the son of her womb? They may forget, 
yet will I not forget thee." 

Could we only realize our Saviour's 
exceeding love as we do that of our 
earthly friends, we should be more likely 
to yield him the return he asks. Could 
we see him the infinitely tender, loving, 
patient Friend, human as well as divine, 
a veritable brother in the flesh, " wounded 
for our transgressions, bruised for our 
iniquities," on whom has been " laid the 
iniquity of us all," and who, out of the 
• fullness of his love to each of us indi- 
8 * 



9° 



Whither Bouitd? 



vidually, bore the heavy burden even to 
agony and death, surely the hearts that 
are softened into melting tenderness by 
the comparatively slight and shallow affec- 
tion and devotedness of an earthly friend, 
would not harden in stony coldness against 
the pleadings of the infinitely more lov- 
ing Saviour ! Would it not, to many a 
weary and heavy-laden soul — laden with 
the cares and troubles of this world — give 
life a totally different aspect could Christ 
be really felt as the ever-present Friend 
he is or will be to those who trust him? — a 
Friend who rejoices in our well-being and 
sympathizes in our sorrow ; who is glad 
when we prevail over our spiritual enemies 
and grieved when we fall under the power 
of temptation ; a Friend to whom we may 
open our burdened hearts, whom we may 
consult in perplexity and lean upon in 
difficulty ; a Friend whose strengthening 
grace we may experience at every step of 
life's pilgrimage, and whose everlasting 
arms we may feel around us when we step 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 91 



down into the chill, dark shades of the 
valley of the shadow of death ! 

Truly such a Friend is indeed 44 more 
precious than rubies — more to be desired 
than the most fine gold !" Such an abso- 
lute trust and reliance as we may have in 
the Saviour would be worth the labor of 
a lifetime to secure. The conditions of 
securing it are simple enough. "With- 
out money and without price " this greatest 
of all blessings may be had. Yet how 
many feel as if they could, like the devo- 
tees of old, perform long and painful pil- 
grimages, undergo painful penances and 
macerations, submit to almost intolerable 
privations, more easily than yield the hom- 
age of the heart — believe with the heart 
on the Lord Jesus Christ ! 

And how T is this love to be awakened in 
hearts so dead to it by nature? No one 
can compel himself to love "the brother 
he has seen," by simply telling himself, 
and even believing, that it is his duty to 
do so. How much less can he thus make 



9 2 



Whither Bound? 



himself love God, whom he has not seen ! 
But the way in which we generally come 
to love human friends is by observing 
their attractive and lovable qualities, or by 
letting the mind dwell upon the evidences 
of their love for us. It is in the same way, 
though to an infinitely greater degree, that 
we can nourish our love for the man Christ 
Jesus. We can allow our minds to dwell 
upon his words and actions, so full of truth 
and love and tenderness, on his overflow- 
ing sympathy with sorrow, his ready suc- 
cor in affliction, his indignation against 
oppression and wrong, his gentle kindness 
to the little children. We can try to pic- 
ture him to our minds as he walked, a 
man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, 
yet a man with tastes and feelings like our 
own. We can see him on his lonely way, 
suffering from poverty and hunger and 
weariness, often without a place " where 
to lay his head," spending long nights on 
the cold mountain side in prayer. We 
can image him to our minds harassed 



The Constraining Love of Christ, 93 

and worn out by labor and sorrow and 
mental conflict, till his countenance in 
the prime of early manhood seemed to 
those who looked upon it to bear the im- 
press of the cares of nearly half a cen- 
tury !* We may try to follow him, as 
with prematurely worn-out frame he toiled 
for the last time along the road to Jerusa- 
lem, and treading the slopes of Olivet once 
more, sat for the last time among the 
family loved at Bethany. Then, if we 
can bear it without shrinking, we may, 
like the " women of his company," follow 
him afar off to the darkest scenes of all — 
the garden, the judgment-hall, the Via 
Dolorosa, the foot of the Cross ! 

Surely as we there " stand beholding," 
and know that all these things were suffered 
for us — each of us individually , as much as 
if no other human being had ever lived — 
one would think it required nothing else to 

* We may infer this from the observation of the Jews 
when they said, " Thou art not yet fifty years old, and hast 
thou seen Abraham ?" 



94 



Whither Bound? 



melt our cold, dead hearts to gratitude and 
love. Yes ! one thing more is wanted — - 
the Holy Spirit's enlightening, vivifying 
power to touch our hearts and open our 
eyes, that we may know him in truth. 
Then shall our hearts indeed ' 6 burn with- 
in us," while he " walks with us by the 
way and opens to us the Scriptures." 

And this constraining love of Christ is 
the only influence that can call forth in 
our hearts true love toward man. There 
are indeed many tender ties in mere human 
feeling, many sweet affections left us still 
to brighten the otherwise dreary path of 
life — "fair flow'rets of Eden" all. But 
beautiful as these natural affections are, 
which also have their original source in 
God's creating love, still that true, unself- 
ish, perfect love toward our fellow-men, as 
such — love that can bear unkindness and 
scorn and ingratitude, and love on still — • 
love that " suffereth long and is kind, seek- 
eth not her own, is not easily provoked, 
beareth all things, believeth all things" — 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 95 



can be the offspring only of genuine love 
for its divine incarnation and prototype. 
This alone can conquer our natural selfish- 
ness and self-seeking, break down the bar- 
riers of cold exclusiveness, overcome re- 
sentment and vindictiveness, and transform 
our thousand repelling points into centres 
of loving attraction. In Christ alone are 
we really brethren — not a mere aggregate 
of creatures, each seeking to hold his own 
and get the better of his neighbor in the 
great " struggle for existence." Christian 
love is the only true social alembic — the 
only way and the simplest way of effecting 
that helpful harmony and union which men 
have sought by a thousand conventional 
semblances and artificial bonds — most inef- 
ficient substitutes ! — to promote. 

One of the most deservedly popular fic- 
tions of a modern novelist describes a 
sudden transformation of character in 
hich, by means of a dream or spiritual 
visitation, a churlish, miserly man, bound 
with the selfish habits of } T ears, is converted 



9 6 



Whither Bound? 



into a genial, kindly being, overflowing 
with love and benevolence toward his 
kind. The tale is prettily told, and con- 
tains thoughts and suggestions which 
might well have their influence on hard 
and unfeeling hearts ; but, as a portrait of 
anything within the range of possibility, 
the picture is quite untrue. No dream, no 
spiritual visitation, no appearance of one 
raised from the dead, could possibly have 
the effect of casting out the long-seated 
demon of selfishness and enthroning love 
in its vacated place. 

Christ received into the soul, Christ 
taken as the Saviour, alone can work the 
mighty change and impart true harmony 
to our discordant lives. Love is the true 
solution of the problem of life, the true 
happiness for which man was created — the 
pure and holy enthusiasm which redeem- 
ing love awakens — first for God and then 
for man. 

" Herein is love — not that we loved 
God, but that he loved us, and sent his 



The Constraining Love of Christ. 97 

Son to be the propitiation for our sins. 
Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought 
also to love one another !" 

When I survey the wondrous cross 
On which the Prince of glory died, 

My richest gain I count but loss, 
And pour contempt on all my pride. 

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, 
Save in the death of Christ my God ; 

All the vain things that charm me most, 
I sacrifice them to his blood. 

See, from his head, his hands, his feet, 
Sorrow and love flow mingled down ; 

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, 
Or thorns compose so rich a crown ? 

Were the whole realm of nature mine, 

That were a present far too small ; 
Love so amazing, so divine, 

Demands my soul, my life, my all. 

9 



Why halt thus, O deluded heart ? 

Why waver longer in thy choice ? 
Is it so hard to choose the part 

Offered by Heaven's entreating voice 
Oh look with clearer eyes again, 
Nor strive to enter in, in vain. 

Press on ! 

Remember, 'tis not Caesar's throne, 
Nor earthly honor, wealth or might, 

Whereby God's favor shall be shown 
To him who conquers in this fight. 

Himself and an eternity 

Of bliss and rest he offers thee. 

Press on ! 

Then break the rotten bonds away, 
That hinder you your race to run, 

That make you linger oft and stay ; 
Oh, be your course afresh begun ; 

Let no false rest your souls deceive ; 

Up ! 'tis a heaven ye must achieve ! 

Press on ! 



Omnipotence is on your side, 

And Wisdom watches o'er your heads, 
And God himself will be your guide, 

So ye but follow where he leads. 
How many, guided by .his hand, 
Have reached ere now their fatherland ! 

Press on ! 

Oh, help each other, hasten on ; 

Behold, the goal is right at hand ; 
The battle-field shall soon be won, 

Your King shall soon before you stand. 
To calmest rest he leads you now, 
And sets his crown upon your brow. 

Press on ! 

100 



CHAPTER V. 



What shall the End be? 



God now commandeth all men everywhere to repent. 



LL that has been said upon the mo- 



-f** mentous subject under consideration 
has presupposed the mental assent of the 
reader to the truths received by the major- 
ity of the Christian world as directly re- 
vealed by God to man. If there be doubts 
regarding revelation itself, that question 
must be fought out elsewhere ; these pages 
are not intended to be argumentative, but 
simply to rouse, if possible, those who, be- 
lieving Christianity theoretically, are de- 
laying with culpable and infatuated indif- 
ference to believe with their hearts on the 
Lord Jesus Christ. 

If the mind of the reader be indeed 
9* 101 




102 



Whither Bound? 



harassed with honest doubts as to the 
authenticity of the Christian religion, we 
would not bid him stifle thought, but 
rather urge him to think the subject hon- 
estly out, laying aside all uncandid bias, 
prosecuting his inquiries with the help of 
the light he can procure, and in the spirit 
of deep earnestness befitting a question of 
such unspeakable importance to his eternal 
interests — a question not of temporal, but 
of spiritual life and death. Let him study 
above all, with thoughtful care, the writ- 
ings which we believe to be the Word of 
God, and try in all sincerity to settle for 
himself the question whether it is not, as 
it professes to be, the voice of God speak- 
ing directly to his soul. Let him, above 
all things, study the words of Jesus him- 
self, feeling, as did one bewildered by 
doubts who in this way found rest, that if 
these really are the words of Jesus, he is 
sure to know the meaning of them, and 
will give the needed light to the wandering 
soul who asks it from him. And let him 



What shall the End be? 103 

not grow weary of asking. Such a blessing 
is worth striving for, and in time, if he be 
in earnest, he will find, as many others 
have done, his doubts melting away and 
light "unspeakable and full of glory" 
dawning on his heart. 

But if the man who is still out of Christ 
has not even the excuse of doabt, how is 
the carelessness and procrastination of his 
position at all defensible? If he concedes 
that the things which have been said are 
true; if he acknowledges that a hope in 
Christ is the only thing which will give 
real happiness in life and peace and safety 
in the prospect of death ; if he feels that he 
has a load of sin to be removed, and that 
its weight upon his conscience and its pre- 
vailing power over his actions can be re- 
moved only by the atoning and purifying 
sacrifice of Christ appropriated by faith; 
if he believes in the infinite love of Jesus 
Christ in suffering and dying for those sins 
of his, — how can the carelessness and indif- 
ference of still delaying to make that sal* 



Whither Bound? 



vation his own be for a moment defended? 
Would he act thus in regard to any earthly- 
affair of importance, putting it off from day 
to day, when any moment might see his time 
of choice and probation terminated abruptly 
and without warning? Would he be guilty 
of such ingratitude to any earthly friend, 
who had made a costly sacrifice to secure 
some great benefit for him, as to allow by his 
own carelessness the gift to be neutralized 
and his friend's sacrifice to be thrown fruit- 
lessly away ? No ; it is only in spiritual 
concerns, where the world of sense steps 
in with its obscuring influence, and in the 
instance of the Saviour's unspeakable 
love, that this ingratitude and this care- 
lessness prevail. Men float on with the 
tide in pleasant forgetfulness, caring only 
that their happy dreams be not disturbed, 
till at last comes the fatal plunge, and they 
find themselves launched on the ocean of 
eternity ! Must we not believe that it is 
the great enemy of souls himself who, that 
he may make the surer of his prey, thus 



What shall the End be? 105 



lulls the heart and conscience into their 
perilous slumber, even as the Arctic trav- 
eler is impelled to yield to the insidious 
influence of the drowsiness which is over- 
taking his exhausted frame, and sink into 
a sleep from which there is no earthly 
awaking? 

One of the most common delusions by 
which men allow their eternal safety to be 
imperiled is that thought that at no distant 
day, as soon as a " more convenient sea- 
son" shall arrive, when the subject now 
engrossing their minds shall be disposed 
of, or the important business now 7 harassing 
them shall be brought to a satisfactory con- 
clusion, they will begin in earnest to attend 
to matters the importance of which they 
cannot but acknowledge. But how can 
they be sure that the time they are looking 
forw r ard to w 7 ill ever arrive? Will not one 
interest follow another, one exciting con- 
cern after another occupy their thoughts, 
until perhaps death comes without warn- 
ing? " JSfow is the accepted time," God 



io6 



Whither Bound? 



himself tells us ; he gives us no encourage- 
ment to look forward to any other. 

And even if that more convenient season 
were really to arrive, how can they be 
sure of improving it? Will their minds be 
more ready to enter upon thoughts which 
now they turn from with instinctive aver- 
sion? Will not habits of sin be growing 
more difficult to break ? Will not the spirit 
of this world be ever more and more as- 
serting its power, and crowding out higher 
and purer thoughts? Is not the heart 
growing ever harder — less likely to melt 
into contrition, to feel a Saviour's love, to 
undergo the second birth, without which 
we " cannot enter into the kingdom of 
God?" The longer a man lives without 
God in the world, the more completely 
does he lose all care for his higher birth- 
right, the more thoroughly does he sink 
under the dominion of the visible world, 
the more impossible does it seem that he 
should be turned to " the things of Christ' 5 
by anything short of a miracle. 



What shall the End be? 107 



It may be that in spiritual things as well 
as in temporal there is " a tide in the af- 
fairs of men," that there is a season which 
passes away in which repentance and re- 
conciliation with God is possible, but that 
if the season be allowed to pass by, the 
lower nature becomes master, sin is con- 
firmed, and the heart undergoes that 
M hardening" which God speaks of in his 
Word as one of his judgments upon deter- 
mined sin. When this point is reached no 
human being can ever tell, either for himself 
or others ; but that it is reached sometimes, 
even in this life, too many sad examples 
prove. It may be hastening on for the 
reader of these pages. This voice of 
warning, if it touch his heart or con- 
science, may be the very last that shall 
ever do so. Oh let him not then pass it 
by unheeded ! Let him not imagine that 
he can at any time stop and retrace his 
downward course ! When the adventu- 
rous boatman, floating in the calm, placid- 
looking water above Niagara Falls, allows 



io8 



Whither Bound? 



his little skiff to drift with the swift cur- 
rent, he does so on the supposition that 
at any moment a few vigorous strokes of 
the oar will establish his course in the oppo- 
site direction. But the insidious hidden 
current, with its deep, strong pull, carries 
him too far before he is aware. When 
he tries to retrace his course it shows him 
that it has now attained resistless power, 
and sweeps him relentlessly along toward 
the white, seething rapids, the prelude to 
the foaming cataract and the headlong 
plunge into destruction. 

Of a similar nature is the delusion which 
tempts men to trifle with the question of 
repentance, allowing themselves to believe 
that they have it in their power at any time 
to return to God, and at worst, that when 
death seems to be approaching, they will 
be able to make their peace with him. 
But setting aside altogether the considera- 
tion that the grace of God in Jesus Christ 
is given us that we may meet life as well 
as death in its strength, can any one who 



What shall the End be? 109 



realizes what sickness, what a deathbed 
is, seriously entertain such a thought? 
When the frame is racked with pain, when 
deadly languor or heavy stupor prostrates 
the mental energies, when the effects of 
physical suffering darken the perceptions 
of the mind, and the patient's attention, 
even if his mind be clear, is distracted 
by his bodily sensations, — can that be a 
time when things which in health seemed 
too formidable to be willingly met, can be 
taken up and disposed of? " If in the 
land of peace, wherein thou trustedst, 
they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do 
in the swelling of Jordan?" When the 
mind needs all the peace which God can 
give to sustain it, what will become of it 
if distracted by the consciousness of guilt 
and the fear of an unknown eternity? 
It has been well said that there has been 
one instance of salvation at the eleventh 
hour, that none might despair, and but 
one, that none might presumptuously 
hope. And if death should come, as it 

10 



no 



Whither Bomtd? 



does to many, suddenly and' without warn- 
ing, what then? 

But perhaps the most dangerous and 
deceitful fancy of all, leading to certain 
destruction, is the idea entertained by 
many of trusting vaguely in the infinite 
mercy of God — the idea that he will be 
found too merciful to punish sin as his 
word leads us to believe, and that in some 
way or other ever)' thing will be made right 
for them after death, without their having 
taken the trouble in this life of coming to 
Christ for salvation. 

Certainly we cannot limit the mercy 
and love of God or set any bounds to 
his infinite resources. But can w r e -pre- 
sume upon it so far as to suppose that 
if we willingly neglect the means he 
has pointed out, the w r ondrous salvation 
he has provided for us at such a tremen- 
dous cost, he will overlook our perversity 
and ingratitude, and find some other way 
to save us after we have turned away from 
the salvation offered to us through the sac- 



What shall the End be? in 



rifice of Jesus Christ? As wisely might 
the tiller of the soil permit the season for 
sowing his crops to pass by unheeded, 
trusting that in the reaping-time, through 
the goodness of God, all will " come 
right." As well might the man in a burn- 
ing house or on a sinking ship refuse the 
rescuing hand which at its own peril w r ould 
save him, trusting that through the same 
goodness and mercy the flames would not 
burn nor the cold waters drown, but in 
some way all would 44 come right." In 
the moral, as in the physical world, no 
law of God is more certain than that 44 as 
a man soweth so he shall reap" — that if he 
neglect the means, he cannot expect by 
some specially favoring dispensation of 
Providence to gain the end. Surely these 
are considerations entirely left out of sight 
by those who condemn as severe and 
bigoted the doctrine that "he that believeth 
not the Son shall not see life, but the 
W7'ath of God abideth ufon him" 

And even if we could believe that after 



112 



Whither Bound? 



refusing the salvation offered through 
Christ during the whole of our mortal 
life, we should yet, in the future world, 
find space for repentance, what reason can 
we have for hoping that a second -proba- 
tion, if possible, would have a different 
result from the first? Will the bonds of 
sin be less heavy ? will the heart be less 
hard? will it be easier for the soul to cast 
off the fetters which sinful habits have 
imposed? Is not the power of sin ren- 
dered stronger by indulgence? Does not 
the heart become harder the longer it per- 
sists in alienation from God. Does not 
every step in the downward course render 
it more difficult to retrace our steps? Can 
we suppose that the heart which has re- 
sisted the pleadings of Christ's love, the 
agonies of his passion, the winning appeals 
of his mercy, the solemn warnings of 
God's providence while on earth, w r ill be 
more likely to listen to any voice of mercy 
that could penetrate the kingdom of the 
lost? Would the experience of purgatorial 



What shall the End be? 113 



fires be likely to bow in penitence and 
self-abasement those to whose hearts the 
love and sufferings of Christ have been 
displayed in vain? " If they hear not 
Moses and the prophets, neither will they 
be persuaded though one rose from the 
dead." Does it not follow, from every 
analogy we are able to trace, that the 
choice between good and evil made in 
this life must go on to the end? Must we 
not say that the soul which has turned 
away from a Saviour's sacrifice, yield- 
ing to sin, has begun its downward pro- 
gress, and must sink lower and lower in 
sin and impenitence, farther and farther 
from reconciliation with God or desire for 
it, till it is lost in a fathomless abyss 
of sin and darkness and horror, which we 
shudder to contemplate, where " the 
worm dieth not, and the fire is not 
quenched?" 

If these things be true, why should 
there be any delay in making the decision 
which must be made? " Choose ye this 
10 * 



ii4 



Whither Bound? 



day whom ye will serve." If the choice 
of serving Christ will solve the problem 
of life, produce harmony where now there 
is discord, make human life bright with 
love and joy and peace from heaven, and 
cause death to be seen merely as the portal 
to a life infinitely nobler, richer, fuller 
than we can now conceive — a life stretch- 
ing in perfect bliss throughout all eternity 
— what earthly matter of interest can ap- 
proach this in importance and urgency? 

And there is no other way except 
that a man should be born again — that 
he should enter into a living union with 
Christ as his Saviour. No pomp of 
ritual, no exactness of formalism, no 
theoretical belief or external profession, 
will serve as a substitute for the change 
of heart which is impressed upon us as 
the one thing needful. No efficacy of 
sacraments, or absolution of priests, or 
prayers of the Church, or even of loving 
friends, will avail to produce this change. 
Only the individual choice^ the " believ- 



What shall the End be? 115 



ing in the Lord Jesus Christ," will effect 
it. 

And yet this " believing in Christ " often 
seems more difficult than the performing 
of the most arduous penances, the severest 
tasks, would be. The very freeness and 
simplicity of the way is a stumbling-block 
to many. They cannot get over the feel- 
ing that u some great thing" should be 
done by them to win a boon so immeasura- 
ble as eternal life. It is just our incapa- 
bility of doing anything for it that our 
heavenly Father wishes to make us feel. 
" Except ye be converted, and become as 
little children y y<t shall not enter into the 
kingdom of heaven." We cannot make 
ourselves believe in and love Jesus ; but 
we can choose to lay ourselves at his feet, 
and he will give us the belief and the love. 
We can offer him the sacrifice of our wills, 
the only sacrifice he desires. We can 
choose between good and evil, can choose 
to " renounce the devil and his works and 
the carnal desires of the flesh, so that we 



Whither Bound? 



will not follow them nor be led by them." 
We cannot carry our choice into effect in 
our own strength, but we can will; God 
will perform the rest. The choice must 
be ours — the work will be Christ's ; but 
we have no reason to suppose that God, 
all-powerful as he is, will ever change the 
heart of a human being against his de- 
liberate will and choice. 

But how ready he is to do it if we will 
let him ! How is his ear ever open to our 
slightest cry, if it be an earnest one ! We 
have only to throw ourselves upon him, 
acknowledging our helplessness, and he 
66 will undertake for us," and give us the 
spiritual life that Christ came to procure 
for us. The work of sanctification or 
purification must be a gradual one. It 
may be long before we shall have the 
strong tendencies to evil uprooted, long 
before we shall be able from the heart to 
submit our will to God's. But the work 
will be ever going on, and we shall have 
strength for the warfare. " He that is 



What shall the End be? 117 



washed needeth not. save to wash his 
feet." If our hearts are washed in 
Christ's blood, we shall need only purifi- 
cation from the stain we contract by the 
way — the sins of actual life w 7 e are daily 
betrayed into ; but the load of guilt that 
lay between us and God will be removed 
for ever. And if any reader of this book 
is unconscious of that load of guilt, let 
him pray that his eyes may be opened 
while there is yet time ; for it is ihere^ 
and if he sees it not now, he shall assuredly 
see it some day, when it shall rise to 
overwhelm him. 

What, then, shall the end be? Union 
with Christ, rest in him, increasing holi- 
ness, love, joy, peace, a death of hope and 
trust in Jesus, an eternity of blessedness 
in God inconceivable by human imagina- 
tion? Or, rejection of Christ, proud self- 
dependence, widening separation from 
God, increasing subjection to sin, a death 
out of Christ, an eternity of inexpressible 
degradation and sinking ever deeper and 



n8 



Whither Bound? 



deeper away from hope and light into 
the outer darkness? Reader, the choice! 
is yours, and these issues hang upon iti 
God grant it may be for you and for me,» 
the choice of the " better part, which shall 
never be taken away from us !" 

Just as I am, without one plea 
But that thy blood was shed for me, 
And that thou bidst me come to thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come I 

Just as I am, and waiting not 
To rid my soul of one dark blot, 
To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, though tossed about 
With many a conflict, many a doubt, 
Fightings within and fears without, 

O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind, 
Sight, riches, healing for the mind, 
Yea, all I need, in thee to find, 

O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, thou wilt receive, 

Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve ; 

Because thy promise I believe, 

O Lamb of God, I come ! 



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